


Club Games

by j_gabrielle



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Spies & Secret Agents, I Was Drunk When I Wrote This, M/M, Meet-Cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-15
Updated: 2019-06-15
Packaged: 2020-05-07 06:21:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19203664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/j_gabrielle/pseuds/j_gabrielle
Summary: Jon had just finished up a long haul in Austria, when the call came in for this, and he'd only been swayed to slip back into his Tom Ford three piece because it was a favour for his cousin.Whoever the redheaded prick is that Bran said would be here, he is late.





	Club Games

The party rages on. Music and cigarette smoke thick in the air, bodies a tangle under the club lights on the first floor. Not that where he is perched on the bannister, looking out like a sentinel, is any better.

Jon has counted more than three couples who have passed him on their way to the private rooms; two of which with people who were't the people they came with. It's none of his business, but he's sure that at least one of them had a gun concealed on them. 

He takes a drink of his beer and runs his eyes along the edge of the room, watching for his contact. Flicking a look to his watch, he shifts on his feet. God, he hates being shafted with these types of assignments. Jon had just finished up a long haul in Austria ( _fuck you very much 007_ ), when the call came in for this, and he'd only been swayed to slip back into his Tom Ford three piece because it was a favour for his cousin.

Whoever the redheaded prick is that Bran said would be here, he is late.

The music smoothes into something he has never heard from Pitbull. It's annoyingly catchy. Jon contemplates his exit plan, when he feels a large body moves up against him. He shudders, head snapping to the owner of that body, but all speech flees when he looks up into summer sky blue eyes that shift indigo in the change of lights. His breath sticks in his chest, and he shoots a hand out to steady himself, finding that the man had wrapped a thick arm around his waist.

"Excuse me," The man, a giant really, says over the noise. "But are you the Crow?"

Ah, so this is he.

Jon swallows back the swell of lust and desire, desperately affecting an air of professionalism. "Are you my contact?" He asks, standing a little straighter.

"The Raven didn't tell me you were this..."

"This, what?"

"Beautiful."

Jon has to look away lest he do something stupid. Like swoon. He notes, with no small amount of curious interest, that the arm around his waist has yet to be pulled back. The man's handsome face watch him with undisguised want. Leaving no mistaking of his intent going forward, but they were both here for a job.

"I have your package," Jon leans in, pressing himself close. He has to tip toe a little to brush his lips to the man's earlobe, but it is worth to feel the beard that tickles the collar of his shirt. "Shall we?" 

The man grins, nodding. _Lead the way_.

They quickly find themselves in the muffled quiet and redlit shadows of the private rooms. Jon leads them to a pre-booked room. Rolling the dimmer, casting a warm welcomed glow to the space. 

"Do you do all your dealings in rooms like these, little Crow?"

Jon knows he should bristle at the lilt of mockery roll of his callsign, but all he can muster up is a quick side eye to the man - _fucking hell he's a redhead_ , it's as if the Universe was taunting him with all his turn ons in one person - before prying himself out of his hold to say tersely, "Wait here."

He flees to the bathroom, not bothering to close the door, going to his knees. Reaching under the sink for the MicroSD Card taped to the side. "Here," He says, holding it out to the man. "The list of off-shore bank accounts, names of persons in collusion, meetings that did not happen, records of funds received and skimmed."

The man pulls out a phone from his jacket, inserting the card. Jon moves away from him to blindly fix himself another drink. The phone eventually makes a happy ping, and is put away again. "Expect the money to be in your account by the hour," The man says.

Jon nods, finishing his drink in one deep swallow. It burns going down. He turns to leave, when the man speaks up.

"You didn't answer me."

"What?" Jon frowns, fussing with the buttons of his coat.

"Do you do all your dealings in rooms like these," The man says, moving to stand next to him. The proximity forces Jon to look up. Fuck. He's really my type, he thinks with no small amount of despair.

"I don't know your name," He manages, lifting a hand to splay over the man's sternum. He feels warm under his palm, and smells devilishly good. Jon shakes his head as if to clear the cobwebs from the attic of his brain. "And we're both on the clock."

The man smiles, slow and full of promise. 

He slides close. Pressing their bodies knee to chest. That arm finds itself back round Jon's waist, leaning down, dipping Jon back just a little, and--

He tastes like peppermint candy and a hint of smoke. Jon unfurls under his clever mouth. He thinks he makes a sound, but that thought dissipates like gossamer floss, and he greedily chases his tongue with his own. Hands move southward to cup his arse cheeks. Kneading and squeezing, and Jon about comes in his trousers like he's thirteen again. 

"Tormund," Jon hears murmured into his chin when the man nips at his bottom lip. 

"Wha--?"

"My name is Tormund. Just in case you need something to scream later," The man smiles, wild face crinkling in amusement. Patting his left arse cheek, he dips in, licking the parted seam of Jon's mouth. "And you can meet me at that address in two hours. If you want to."

With that, he releases Jon, but not before helping him right himself. Tormund quirks an eyebrow at the bulge that distends the front of his trousers, and when all Jon has to say is, "You'll have to be patient", he chuckles, brushing the back of his knuckles up against it.

"Fucker," Jon gasps.

"That's the plan, little Crow," Tormund winks, buttoning his jacket, but not before allowing Jon to see his interest reflected back on him.

"Two hours," Jon says.

"Two hours." He agrees.

* * *

Jon thinks he must've died and gone to heaven, because there is no way the Universe would be so infinitely kind that Tormund could be exactly his type and also possessing a cock that he was rapidly becoming addicted to.

"Are you still with me?"

Gun calloused hands push his hair out of his face, and all that Jon is capable of is a weak, needy moan. He rolls his hips stutteringly, blissed out from the orgasms Tormund wrung out of him in quick succession. He would feel slightly embarrassed about his staying power if he wasn't too busy being stretched open on aforementioned cock of perfection.

"Hey," Suckling kisses make a path up his neck to his jawline. He's probably got beard rash for days in places where the sun doesn't shine, and he isn't quite sure he is going to be able to leave this flat in the morning, but Tormund's already mentioned something about cooking him breakfast, so he thinks it should be fine.

"Hey," This time accompanied by a slow down of thrusting, and gentle hands patting his cheeks. "Still with me?"

"Yeah," Jon slurs. Reaching up, he cards his fingers through sweat dark hair. "Still here."

Tormund smiles, slipping his thumb past Jon's lips. "Good. 'Coz I'm not done with you, pretty Crow."

 

**Author's Note:**

> The Pitbull song in question is 'La Reina de Blanco'. It's been stuck on a loop in my brain.  
> \--  
> I have never, will never, allow any reposting or translations of my works without my permission. All of my works will and shall only be hosted on my personal accounts on AO3 (j_gabrielle), Dreamwidth (j_gabrielle) and Tumblr (randomingoftherandomness, hardheartshere).
> 
> For those who say that I never said anything, it is clearly stated on my AO3 profile bio.
> 
> I do not have a Twitter account.
> 
> I do not have a Wattpad account.
> 
> **Please Do Not Repost My Fics**


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